26 October 2004

Hell, I was just asked one of the most annoying questions EVER...

"So, do you know what you're having yet?"

I answer: "Um... yeah, a CHILD."

Obviously, I know this girl wants to know whether I'm going to have a daughter or a son. But I have a problem with giving her an answer when she refers to my kid as "WHAT."


She smiles, and then asks, all matter-of-factly, "Oh, you don't know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Double duh.

"What are you having?" Duh. That's a question a waitress should ask you when you're sitting in a restaurant and you've just put your menu on the table. Not a question that some weird girl should be asking about my belly. I'm irritated.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I had a doctor's appointment in Olympia yesterday.

I have gained 32 pounds since I got pregnant. I'm 30 weeks pregnant. So, that's just about a pound per week. I am just a little bit above "normal" weight for my height, but I still feel like a fucking orca whale.

My doctor said: "At least you don't feel like a beluga, or a gray whale?"

I like him.

I did note, though, that the room they always bring me to is decorated with a sort of oceanic theme: lighthouses on the wall, a mobile on the ceiling made of wooden anchors... I said to Neil: "See! I AM an orca! They bring me to this room in order to remind me of my home!"

Neil rolled his eyes all the way back into his head. "You are NOT an orca!"

...But it seems significant that my doctor did not actually DENY that I am an orca.

* * * * * * * * * * *

He DID agree with Neil, though, that ice cream is not a breakfast food.

He said yogurt might be a little more appropriate.

Blah. What the fuck does my doctor know? Shit, HE thinks I'm a fucken whale!


* * * * * * * * * * *

The baby's heartbeat sounded awfully irregular to me. But I wasn't really sure, because I tend to have awful rhythm. I tend to think that, if a band is on-key, they're great, regardless of the fact that their drummer might be fucken awful. Still...

But the doctor said it's normal for babies at this stage to have irregular heart rhythms, and if they don't, it might be a cause for worry. He said it's probably due to hormonal fluctuations or something like that.

So, by all accounts, the baby is perfectly normal.

I mean, at least physically.

There's NO way she's got ANY chance of being normal through and through. I'm sure she's inherited ALL of the freak genes she could possibly soak up. I'm sure also that her environment as she's growing up is going to encourage nearly ALL of them.

But you know what I mean.

I still haven't done that stupid diabetes test. I still have to do it, but the good doc said it wasn't a seriously big deal. I was close enough to the threshold of being normal so that there shouldn't be any real worries. He advised me to get forty-five minutes of walking in per day. That shouldn't be too much of a problem. And if the test comes back positive for something crappy, all they do is teach me to keep my calorie intake down to 1,800 a day.

Yeah, whoop-dee-doo. That was just about normal for me before I got pregnant, so it's not like it'd be a big deal. Good. So no finger-pricking, and no insulin shots, and no counting carbs, and no using little pink fake sugars. That shit sucks.

And, said the good doc, he isn't really concerned at all about the health of the baby. She'll be fine, he said.

To prove it, she kicked the shit out of his heartbeat-listening equipment.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I'm still irritated at that girl who wanted to know what I was having. Growl.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I was debating going out for a walk and writing a nice long love letter to my dear, beloved Neil. But it's kinda cold out, and I hate it when my fingers get all cold and stiff. Maybe I'll just walk around and listen to CDs or something.